A Hopeful Heart and A Home, a Heart, A Husband: A Hopeful Heart. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ from that time except John. I think that’s mine. And a date,” he added. “June twenty-first. I have no idea of the significance of that. And you young things don’t want to be fussing about an old man like me. You’ve got too much living to do. I’d better get going.”

      Melanie ushered him to the door, murmuring a few polite words of farewell. The door flew open just as she grasped the handle, and an unusually flustered Hope came surging into the room, her hair wild and disorderly, her normally immaculate clothes rumpled and dirty.

      “The nerve of that man,” she sputtered, her voice full of dismay. “He actually asked me to marry him. At my age! Can you imagine it?”

      Papa John observed Hope with a curious look, his eyes wide and questioning, obviously amazed that she found a marriage proposal so distasteful.

      “He wants to get married right away! As if I would even countenance such a thing.”

      “But why not?” Mitch demanded. “Gramps and you make a fine couple, and I think you enjoy each other’s company. Don’t you?” His stare was speculative, his eyes narrowing as the older woman brushed aside a bright lock of hair.

      “Of course I enjoy Harry’s company,” she burst out. “But I can’t just suddenly decide to marry him. Not now, not with everything so up in the air.”

      “You know,” Mitch told her seriously, his eyes fixed on the white-haired man in the doorway. “We were talking about that very thing and how a person shouldn’t wait for something that might never happen. Isn’t that right, sir?”

      “Well, now, I’m not advising any rash decisions,” the old man mumbled, staring at Hope’s blond beauty, bushy eyebrows furrowed. “But there comes a time when you have to grasp opportunity with both hands and get on with your life. Before it’s over.”

      Melanie suddenly noticed that Hope was staring at Papa John, her cheeks pale.

      “Do I know you?” she whispered, peering into his eyes. “I feel somehow that I…”

      “I’m sorry, Hope. I should have introduced you.” Mitch was beaming at the two of them. “This is Papa John. You know, from the company awarding us the prize money.” He turned to the man at the door. “This is our friend, Hope Langford.”

      They nodded at each other, but Hope had not lost that odd look of speculation, and Melanie wondered for the hundredth time what was going on.

      “Papa John Lexington,” he told her succinctly, offering a quick little bow. “Most folks call me Big John.” He turned to Melanie, who was standing dumbfounded as Mitch’s muscular arm wound itself around her shoulders, pressing her against his side in a pose reminiscent of two young lovers.

      “Any word on that prize money?” Mitch asked, snuggling Melanie’s firm, unyielding form against his.

      “It should be released any day now,” Papa John murmured, still staring at Hope. “Strange, though, the entry forms having only the one initial. We don’t think they were signed in either of your handwritings, either. We checked against the disclaimer we had you fill out.” He was almost to the elevator before Hope’s shrill tone stopped him.

      “Wait a minute! Did you used to live near here? In a place called Sherman Oaks? You remind me…”

      But Papa John was stepping into the elevator, shaking his white head.

      “No, I’m afraid the name doesn’t sound familiar,” he told her. His gaze lighted on Mitch and Melanie still standing entwined. “Thank you for the tea. You’ll be hearing from my company soon, very soon.”

      When the elevator doors finally closed on their guest, Melanie ducked out from Mitch’s snug embrace to chastise him roundly.

      “How could you?” she gasped. “He thinks we are in love with each other. He thinks we eat peanut butter. He thinks we actually like each other!” Her voice was squeaking, and Melanie fought for control.

      “We could be, I do eat it, and we do like each other,” he answered quietly before moving to clear away the dishes they’d used.

      “But…but—” Melanie spluttered, unable to believe what she had just heard. She floundered, searching for words. “I never—that is, if we…I mean, darn it, will you stand still for a minute?”

      She was frustrated at Mitch’s calm acceptance of the situation. What did he mean, they could be in love? She had never given him any reason to think such a thing! Had she?

      He did stop. Putting the tray on the ceramic kitchen counter, he placed his hands behind him as he leaned back to study her flushed face and wringing hands. His knowing grin made her palms itch to slap it away. This was no laughing matter!

      “You know that you’re as interested in me as I am in you,” he told her. “We think alike. But if you want to keep pretending that there’s nothing there…” He shrugged. “Fine. That’s life. But you’re only fooling yourself.”

      “I have no clue as to where you got this information,” she told him spitefully. “But let me assure you that it is false. I am not attracted to you. You’re too pushy and too bossy and—”

      His big smile beamed teasingly at her.

      “It’s okay, Melanie. I don’t expect you to own up to it. You never do.” His blue eyes licked fire at her as he followed her figure to the cinched waist of her silky slacks.

      “You’re weird,” she muttered angrily. “I don’t understand where you get the wild idea that we think alike. I couldn’t possibly think in nearly such a convoluted form as you.” She glared at him. “Besides, I always own up to everything.”

      “Like this need you have to create big happy families wherever you go? Even if it means burning yourself out in overtime at Sunset with the residents?” His voice was low and intimate. “You know as well as I that you want your own family, and this is your way of creating one.”

      “You’re being ridiculous.” She bristled, angry at him for bringing the subject up. “I have family. I have Charity, remember?” She gasped when he shook his dark head.

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